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lloyd banks - 718 niggas lyrics

[intro:]
come on!
“5 and better”! [scream]
“return… of the plk”! [gunshot]

[chorus 1: {dj whoo kid}]
we heavy on the hydro, and heavy on the hip!
speeding by i’m like angaledy on my sh-t
‘0-8 gallardo, man i hollow n-ggas up
bottle after bottle models follow in the truck! – what? [car tires squeal] {whooooooo!}

[verse:]
the hood miss the champion, cause everybody dancing an’
these bi-polar n-ggas keep talking until you answer them
somebodies amping ’em! – i f-ck around and trample ’em
squash ’em by accident, i’ll never shake your hand again! [gunshot]
shopping off the manakin’ – dropping 20 grand again
copping while they srcambling, i make it back gambling
your girl look like a gremlin’ – and mine look like a dime on
stilleto or a timb’land – she’ll pop up on your mind! {lloyd bank$!}
mind your own f-cking bidness don’t get nosey, it get hurt!
burried holy in the dirt from a word over the chirp
i’m nothing like these other n-ggas all my clothes fit
and i don’t walk around wearing bags like a chick!
n-ggas talking birds, ain’t never seen a brick!
you either down or you not – ain’t no in between this sh-t. {haha!}
if you learn to be respectful i might let you clean the whip
and get nose bleed tickets to the show you f-cking pr-ck. {whooooooooooooooooooooooooooo}
and my cake bigger! – i’m a “718 n-gga” {kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiid!}
you a snake, n-gga! – one foot over the gate, n-gga!
just wait n-gga! – cowards don’t last long, get blast on
bl–dy face; all over the mask on, your -ss gone. {d-mn!} [shot]
don’t come through here without your p-ss on they
throwing “2 g’s up” – so you ain’t got to ask ’em!
all these n-ggas want nice things, bentleys and ranged out
man, i ain’t seen lupe with his board since he came out. {money wrong!}
i bet he traded that in for some wheels [police sirens]
cause his ships change every couple years and they i’ll! [police sirens]
it might not be nessaccery, that’s just how i feel [police sirens]
n-gga you don’t like me die slow – pop a pill! [gunshot]
you ain’t got a career, just cause you got a deal
half of these n-ggas told they’ll come out and never will
on the real! – these cupcake n-ggas know the deal
my goons give out the wounds, you ain’t wanna feel!

[chorus 2:]
we heavy on the dollars and heavy on the clips
riding through manhattan all black and on piff
all black ferrari and i’m prob’ly with your b-tch
nothing on my mind more than how to get rich!

[chorus 1:]
we heavy on the hydro, and heavy on the hip!
speeding by i’m like angaledy on my sh-t. [car tires squeal]
‘0-8 gallardo, man i hollow n-ggas up!
bottle after bottle, models follow in the truck! – what? [gunshot]

[outro:]
thisis50-… dot-com! [beat fades out]

- lloyd banks lyrics

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